By Kiegan Irish
Published in June 2020
The effects of human activity on the climate has resulted in massive biodiversity loss, increasingly volatile weather conditions (including hurricanes, flooding, wildfires, etc.), and many other adverse effects which impacts the daily lives of more and more people. In this article I want to consider what effect this has on our understanding of freedom.
In North America, freedom is commonly understood to refer to the absence of limits on our actions. Any constraint or rule represents the limits of freedom. In philosophical circles, this understanding of freedom is usually referred to as “negative freedom.” It is defined by what it is not.
A Negative Freedom
A recent media narrative has captured a caricatured version of this idea of freedom. Namely, reactions against government action to restrict movement of the population to prevent the spread of Covid-19. Despite physical distancing recommendations, some people have gathered publicly to protest the shutdowns of businesses, claiming that any restrictions on their habits are an infringement of their freedom. These protests have included armed militias at the Michigan State Legislature.
Most people see the sense of restrictions in place for the sake of public health. As such, I mention that these protests are a caricature of negative freedom. They are based on a misunderstanding: it is difficult to exercise any kind of freedom if you are unable to breath or if you die. Most people observing these proceedings would come to the conclusion that these protesters are not standing for a very robust notion of freedom.
Freedom and Climate Change
A more complex freedom issue is the effects of climate change on human activity — we cannot pump gasses into the atmosphere at the current emissions rate or we will destroy the ecological balance necessary for living. Similar to the shutdown protesters, many people have complained that some natural and objective limits on human action represent constraints on their freedom. Or if they do not make this argument explicitly, they continue to act as though they are free to transgress these natural limits. Actions which transgress the natural limits therefore put actors in the deeply unethical position of valuing their “freedom” above the ability of their neighbours and future generations to enjoy the support of the ecological world which has given life to every previous generation.
But what can you do? There are consequences, yes, but you cannot constrain the freedom of someone else. We can no more constrain the polluters than we can prevent willful ignorance about virology. Human beings are free to do as they wish.
While it is true that I lack the power to constrain my fellow citizens (to say nothing of the moral justification) what I can do is to point out that they are badly misunderstanding freedom.
A Proper Freedom
To follow the logic here, imagine a jazz musician, perhaps a saxophonist. She has been studying her craft for years and now her performances are sublime. She evinces a mastery over all the old standards and the theory of music itself, yet she is free to emote and to give the standards new life through her playing. But more than that, she is free to solo and compose, to create music that has never been heard before, that can speak to the soul and move listeners to tears or laughter.
Contrast this saxophonist with someone who has never played saxophone before. This person is formally unconstrained by the discipline of music and the conventions of jazz which have informed the saxophonist’s years of study—they are, in the negative sense, free to solo or compose on the saxophone however they wish. But the practical reality is that they are unable to play a single note. They are constrained by their ignorance of the instrument’s character—its limits.
So it is with freedom, if we cannot understand the context of our freedom and what it is for we are trapped in the negative understanding of freedom. This understanding is ubiquitous in our culture, which postures as free “but everywhere is in chains.” The civilization which exists today on Turtle Island is like the ignoramus with the musical instrument who loudly proclaims his musical freedom while causing the saxophone of ecology to gasp in pain. Or like the lockdown protestor who callously values their superficial freedom to go out and eat chicken fingers over the right to life of the rest of their community.
While there is much more that can be said about the impoverished concept of freedom which pertains today, I want to turn now to another question: what would freedom look like if it were informed by the real limits of ecology, and if those were understood not as constraints but as the character of a relationship in which we can grow and flourish?
Freedom and Virtue
In offering a provisional response to this question it’s relevant to consider two different cultural ideas about what it is to live a beautiful and virtuous life.
The first comes from the ancient Greeks, articulated by Aristotle, that one is truly virtuous when one does not experience acting virtuously as a struggle, when one is free of the desire to transgress into evil action. Virtue becomes a “second nature” which provides the foundation for a beautiful life. By this line of reasoning, what we need is such a civilizational virtue so that we do not constantly transgress the limits of the natural world, but instead we learn these limits and recognize them as the foundation of our freedom, as the terms of a relationship with the world through which we can develop beautiful lives.
But perhaps this sounds hopelessly abstract. What model is there for such a way of life?
Natural Limits: Thankfulness & Relationship
And on this point, I will invite you to consider the second idea, which comes from indigenous cultures in Turtle Island. Some version of this principle is practiced by many different peoples, but Potawatomi writer Robin Wall-Kimmerer articulates it effectively. She explains that when harvesting the gifts of the earth—which she considers a living being, a loving mother—her people abide by the principle never to take more than half of what is given. This is done out of a spirit of thankfulness, and a recognition of responsibility in relationship. If we only take half of nature’s gift, the earth can replenish itself, stewarding the gifts for the future. In her telling we can catch sight of a way of life where natural limits are understood not as constraints but as invitations to thankfulness and relationship.
As we continue to wrestle with our impoverished understanding of freedom, and as we run up against the limits of what the earth can endure, let us reimagine these limits not as constraints but as invitations to be in relationship—with the earth and with one another—and as a challenge to learn virtue, such that our lives can become more beautiful and free.
